


Before we were blinded

by QueenC



Series: Before, Now, and Then [1]
Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Graphic Description, M/M, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:15:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25734916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenC/pseuds/QueenC
Summary: Everyone knows what it means to have your soulmark fading. It's an unmistakable sign. It means your other-half is departing. It means you are destined to roam the world alone for the rest of your days.Charlie is fifteen when his soulmark starts to disappear.
Relationships: Charlie St. George/Alex Standall
Series: Before, Now, and Then [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1858336
Comments: 16
Kudos: 71





	Before we were blinded

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo remember when I said I didn't wanna bring heavy themes into Chalex Week? Well, it's not Chalex Week anymore :D
> 
> Bad jokes apart, I can't stress this enough: MIND THE TAGS. This story doesn't bring anything new that hasn't happened in canon but as it is a deeper perspective on Alex's mindset at the time of his suicide attempt, it may be triggering for some people. As I chose to start the series from a lighter point in their lives, you already know this angst will get better eventually but there's a lot of self-hatred and dark thoughts in this one. Please pass on this story if you feel like you're not in a good mindset to read it. Stay safe and positive, you guys!

Charlie was fifteen years old when he realized his soulmark was fading.

He panicked. As in fully, completely went into a panic, the kind that takes your breath away and makes your vision go dark and blurry around the edges. He had already lost his mom, merely two years ago. It was so not fair that he now had to lose his soulmate too, without ever having known them.

Because everyone knew what it meant if your soulmark started to disappear. It meant your soulmate's life was pacing towards its end. It meant your soulmate was waning, fading, struggling to remain tethered to this world.

The night Charlie realized this was happening, he couldn't bring himself to sleep, afraid that if he closed his eyes, his soulmark would be gone when he woke up by the morning. He stared at it all night, praying, begging, crying — and the worst part was that he couldn't even focus his prayers on a specific person because he still hadn't had the chance to meet who he should be paired for life with yet.

He sat in his bed for hours straight, eyes never leaving the reddish mark on the inner side of his biceps. Charlie had always thought it looked funny-shaped. Sometimes he could make a fluffy cloud out of it — but if he turned his head the right angle, it could also be a teacup. On his more imaginative days, he could draw a Pac-Man face on top of it, and it would also work alright.

Charlie liked his soulmark, had always looked at it fondly — while also being thankful that it wasn't oddly placed (his teammate Luke regretted to date ever letting escape that he'd got his one on his left butt-cheek). He had always gazed at it with some sort of patient anticipation, keeping an eye out on the chance to run into his soulmate by accident. He fantasized about how it would be, how they would meet, what they looked like. Was it a boy or was it a girl? Or maybe it was neither — or maybe it was both. The possibilities were so many. Would they recognize each other as soon as they met? He knew it was very rare but his romantic side hoped so. Ever since he had grown enough to have an understanding of what soulmates were, Charlie waited for the day that he would finally meet his with hope and longing.

And now his marking was fading.

His soulmate was grasping to hold on to life somewhere in this great, big world, and there was nothing Charlie could do but watch the roundish marking on his arm growing paler and paler until it almost disappeared entirely, merging with the natural color of skin.

Morning came and his soulmark looked like a pale ghost of what it once was — but it was still there. Charlie held on to this with all of his hope. _It was still there._ His soulmate would make it out of it, whatever _it_ was. Lots of possibilities crossed his mind — car accidents, chronic diseases, maybe even urban violence? — but Charlie made his best to steer his mind away from such thoughts. It didn't do any good, it only brought negativity, which was the last thing he needed now. He had to be hopeful. Positive. He had to believe his soulmate would make it out of it.

This whole tension lasted for an entire, agonizing week, his soulmark regaining some shades of color only to lose it all again in the span of hours, sometimes minutes, and this happened a lot of times a day. By the end of the week, Charlie was a nerve-wreck. His father had taken pity on him, and allowed him to miss school for the last two days — but staying home didn't help ease his distress either. It was maybe even worse than being at school because he had nothing else to focus on but the prospect he may never get to know his soulmate in this life.

And then finally, _finally_ , after all sorts of impractical, impossible plans had already crossed his mind, after he'd shed more tears than he thought he ever would again after his mom's passing, after he'd lost so much sleep he had permanent dark circles under his eyes, and his performance at school had dropped significantly — then finally it all came to an end. Charlie woke up from his med-induced sleep one morning, and his soulmark was there. Visibly there.

It caught him so off guard that he spent the whole weekend watching it, fearing it was his mind playing tricks on him, or that maybe Fate was giving him hope only to snatch it back again if he dared to avert his eyes. Relief flooded him so fiercely when he realized his soulmark wasn't fading anymore that Charlie was left dizzy on it. They had survived. Whoever they were, wherever they were, Charlie had not lost them.

But his marking never returned to the original pink shade it was before this hell of a week. It remained paler, fainter, edges merging with his skin color, a weak shadow of what it used to be.

Soulmarks were said to be intimately linked with the essence of your other-half, sometimes going as far as embodying personality traits and characteristics. So as happy as Charlie was that his marking hadn't disappeared entirely, he couldn't help but wonder what this could mean about his soulmate after overcoming their close call with death.

* * *

Alex hadn't spared a thought about his soulmate when he tried to kill himself.

He knew they were supposed to be a huge part of his life, something he should look forward to seeing happening, but honestly, at his current state of mind when he tried to _just end it all_ , this whole soulmate shit only seemed like one more disappointing thing he had been dealt without having a say in it.

And as much as it pissed him off, it didn't even make into the top ten of the long list Alex had been carefully putting together, a list of reasons why it was pointless to hold on to life. He had so much heavier shit to handle than being annoyed at not having a choice on who his soulmate would be. To make matters worse, it didn't serve as a purpose to stick around either — for a moment there, Alex did try to come up with reasons worth staying alive. And this stupid nonsense soulmate thing just seemed the most absurd reason of all to make an effort. The way he saw it, the whole thing fell into a limbo of not being the worst part of his life while also not being important enough to make him care.

How is it that someone he didn't even know yet was supposed to give him hope? To make him want to live to see another day? If anything, from his experiences so far, his soulmate was probably going to be a huge jerk Alex would be stuck with for the rest of his life. So yeah, aside from the occasional derisive, skeptical thought about the bigger scene, his soulmate was not at the forefront of his mind when he pulled the trigger. 

Alex didn't think they would hurt. Didn't think they would suffer. And to be honest, even if he had considered it, he doubted it would have stopped him — as Alex to date still made sure of reinforcing to his friends and especially to his parents. He was too far gone to see anything but the darkness inside himself — and it ate away at him slowly, daily, constantly, luring him into making his move, daring, taunting his lack of courage. If he held to no hope anymore, why didn't he just do it? Why don't just go for it? _You're such a fucking coward._ And as much as at first he had put on an actual effort to see past it, past the overwhelming haze that enveloped him tighter day after day, there came a moment there was nothing left to see. Nothing to hold on to, because nothing seemed important enough anymore.

 _He_ didn't seem important enough anymore. If anything, everyone he knew would be better off without him.

So Alex finally grew the courage his mind kept telling him he lacked. He went through his father's stuff. Picked up his spare gun. Locked himself in the bathroom, sat on the tiled floor, and pulled the trigger. Systematically. Detachedly. He didn't even hesitate because mostly it didn't seem like it was happening to him at all. 

When he woke up two weeks later from his coma, unable to walk, talk, eat — sometimes he couldn't even _think_ because his headaches were so severe he was left blinded by the pain — when Alex woke up and came to grips with the fact that there was going to be an after, he cried. For hours, nonstop. He cried until his head hurt so badly the nurses had to sedate him and ease him into sleep again. 

When he woke up for the second time, his tears were gone. But the underlying feeling of failing, of being so useless _he couldn't even kill himself right_ remained. It left a bitter taste in his mouth that he couldn't mistake for any medicine. It left a weight in his head that had nothing to do with his brain injury.

As he was left stranded to a hospital bed for the foreseeable future, there was a lot of time to fill in when his parents weren't around to check on him. And truly, seeing the agony on his mother's face, the guilt on his father's — none of it contributed to make it any less awful. So whenever he found himself alone and awake, he started to focus on his soulmark to keep himself distracted. It was sort of a relief to have visual confirmation that he was once more than the wreckage currently tied to that bed, a reminder of who he once was before this whole fluke he'd pulled off. 

His soulmark was the only thing left from his before-life that remained the same. His coordination was shitty, his ability to speak inexisted, he couldn't fucking breathe on his own during the first couple of weeks — all of his body felt foreign to him but his soulmark was just the same as it always had been. This oddly shaped little cloud on the inside of his arm. Alex had never really paid it much attention before — except for the fact that it was so glaringly red, it felt like a beacon on hot summer days when he chose to wear sleeveless shirts. He used to entertain the idea that his soulmate was probably someone bright and full of personality, if the marking on his skin was anything to go by. But aside from that, it wasn't something Alex had spent a lot of his time thinking about before.

But now, in his recovery, looking at the familiar marking, relearning its deformed, funny shape, committing every little detail of it to his mind in a way he had never felt the need before — it felt cathartic. It felt like the only constant, solid thing he still had in his life. Everything else had changed, had fallen apart around him in ways he wasn't sure he could ever put back again the way it was before. But his soulmark was still there — the only thing that hadn't and wouldn't change, no matter how bad he screwed up, no matter how hard he tried to make everything go away. His soulmate, whoever they were, was a certainty. This was comforting in a way Alex never expected to associate with having a soulmate.

And it was by growing this conscience, by truly looking at his once meaningless, unimportant soulmark, that Alex felt for the first time a twinge of regret for what he'd done. For what he had tried to do. 

He imagined the pain, the confusion his soulmate must have gone through watching their soulmark almost fade, and felt a sense of empathy for whoever this person was for the first time in his life. He felt sorry he had put them through suffering. For even if they happened to be someone who didn't care much about soulmate bonds like Alex once was, a fading soulmark was an unmistakable sign for everyone. It meant your other-half was departing. It meant you were destined to roam the world for the rest of your days alone. 

Guilt was the first emotion Alex felt in weeks aside from hurt, anger, and frustration. Aside from any feeling focused solely on himself and his inability to handle life. For the first time since he had tried to end his suffering, he was seeing beyond his own pain. 

It opened the gates for all the other feelings. Alex felt overwhelmed all of a sudden. There came regret, and shame, and relief, and resignation. But on top of everything, he felt stupid for having even tried. For getting so caught up inside himself he lost sight of everyone and everything that mattered. He couldn't begin to imagine how he would make it up to his parents. To his friends. 

To his soulmate. 

Guilt was a bitch but it was what gave him focus and strength to try and get better. To get out of his ass and put some actual effort into leaving the hospital faster. It was probably not the best, healthiest mindset, but at this point, Alex would aim for anything that gave him purpose. He had a lot of amends to make. 

Recovery took much longer than he imagined, and yet all his doctors seemed impressed at his advances. And Alex would be lying if he said every little thing he managed to do on his own didn't lend him the feeling he had conquered the world. But the process of healing went way much deeper than just his broken body.

He started seeing a therapist, and despite being slightly rebellious at the idea at first, he couldn't say it wasn't doing him good. Alex was far from being completely happy with himself — and honestly, he wasn't sure if he could ever feel that way — but where once he was driven to improvements by guilt and regret, he was now starting to see less in black and white. Yes, he had made an awful choice that had landed him where he stood now. This choice didn't have to define the rest of his life, though. He could be more than that. He hoped he would, someday.

Alex felt like he was baby-stepping to this moment in his life where he could look back and feel no shame — but the mere fact that now he had hopes, as faint as they seemed to be sometimes, was a total U-turn from where he was before when he attempted to put an end to everything. And he had a lot of those initial days with only his soulmark as a company to thank for this change of mindset.

Every night now, before bed, he traced his fingers over his stupidly bright marking and sent up his gratitude, hoping that whoever was on the other side could feel it in that moment.

It was comforting to have a certainty in his life. Something on the horizon that he felt the good kind of anxiety about. He would never lose sight of it again. He would not downplay it anymore. Not anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> I was meant to post this two days ago but I myself was reluctant to bring angst to this ship sdjhfkfhs if you're familiar with my other works, you must have noticed I avoid making them sad as much as I can. I promise the next part will be lighter and happier. Thank you if you made it this far <3


End file.
